


yūgen

by Recluse



Category: Free!
Genre: Introspection, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Oblivious To His Own Feelings, Set after episode 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 22:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16072982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recluse/pseuds/Recluse
Summary: ―An awareness of the universe.Ikuya thinks.





	yūgen

A gentle breeze crosses their paths as they walk back to their apartments. Streetlights stretch long on the sidewalk, a trail of light against the concrete.

Hiyori is quiet.

Ikuya is too.

It’s not until they’ve reached his doorstep that Hiyori speaks, turning to look at him, soft spoken words dipped in hesitation.

“...I’ll see you tomorrow?”

In the lamplight, he’s half a halo.

Ikuya nods.

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause.

“...In the morning. At the bus stop.” He clarifies, and Hiyori nods. Relaxes, just the slightest bit, just enough to notice.

It’s odd. They’ve had this conversation before, the words similar if not exactly the same, but this time distant thunder rattles in his chest, a shivering thrum of something different. The beginnings of a sunrise.

“Okay.” Hiyori says, smiles. It’s mellow, sincere. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

“Goodnight, Ikuya.”

He raises his hand and waves. Ikuya waves in return.

“Goodnight, Hiyori.”

He smiles. Watches him go. Fading from his sight as he turns the corner.

* * *

 

yesterday was

so much confusion

but I can remember

                the roses                

            ―Unknown

 

* * *

He wakes up early. Too early ― the sun isn’t out yet, no yellow light coming through from under his curtains. Not even one birdsong, a single chirp.

He should go back to sleep. He wants to, really, closes his eyes again and waits, but his mind is awake. Vibrant for the first time in a while.

Was it really just yesterday? That Haru ― that everyone ― had reappeared?

It feels like a dream. Almost too good to be true.

He’s afraid he’s going to wake up. He’ll wake up and be the same as he was before his race with Haru, before he had realized what he was doing to himself, he’ll wake up and his heart will still be caged, he’ll have forgotten everything. Everything that he had gained yesterday ― it’ll disappear, like ocean foam, a swirl of nothing swept away by the tide.

He turns, looking at the book on his table. All he can see is the spine, _The Little Mermaid._

His own words come to mind.

_I couldn’t become human._

He closes his eyes again, turning away. Reflecting.

 _I was,_ he thinks, a sliver of embarrassment curling around his ankle, _being a little melodramatic, huh._

Hindsight is twenty-twenty. It’s easy now, to see his own flaws, to look at his memories and cringe at his ignorance.

He knows he can get caught up in his own head, can become blinded by his own thoughts ― he’s even been told so to his face before, different ways but all the same meaning. He knows he can obsess. He knows he often avoids the root of a problem by obsession, and his thoughts whirl, churning in his gut.

It’s scary, to be honest. To look at his feelings for what they truly are, instead of hiding behind a facade, a false desire for strength when really―

―really, he had just felt. Lonely. Abandoned.

Like how a child learns not to touch the stove by being burned repeatedly, he had learned how to keep his heart closed. He had ignored his feelings, locking them away, had let them fester until they had taken the shape of an obsession. Just like before.

_To be a hero like Haru…_

He covers his eyes with his hand, embarrassed.

How childish. As if he had gotten stuck at fourteen.

_You might already be someone’s hero._

Echoes of yesterday play in his head.

_You were a hero to him, Ikuya._

* * *

Hiyori texts him later that morning. It’s not long. Just a greeting ― _Good Morning!_ ― and then a suggestion of a time, early enough to get to campus with an hour to spare before their first classes.

It’s different, somehow, this message, this morning. Something under his skin itches. He brushes it off.

He might move a little faster. Maybe his steps are longer. Maybe he’s out the door a few minutes earlier than usual. Maybe, maybe.

A thought whispers at the back of his skull.

Maybe. Maybe, maybe... _Maybe Hiyori’s still mad_.

It’s odd, how much a part of him thinks he’s wrong, and yet― yet―

“―Ikuya.” Hiyori says, standing by the stop, and Ikuya turns his way.

“Hiyori.” He says, waves.

There’s a pause.

What was this like, before yesterday? He should know, finds himself moving automatically, Hiyori falling into line next him, but it’s ― different. A new sort of awareness.

_Swim with me._

Flickering memories, a young boy, a bright smile. The second time, shy.

He looks at Hiyori from the corner of his eye.

Hiyori catches him though, and asks, “Something on your mind?”

He’s smiling. It’s the same as most mornings. The same expression, waiting for Ikuya to speak, open to whatever he might say. Unsettlingly normal.

“About yesterday...”

He starts, and something in Hiyori’s usual expression shifts. It’s small, but enough to notice, a twitch of his face that smooths out quick.

“What about it?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound mad, but he sounds. Different. Uncertain.

Ikuya looks for the words. He looks for the right way, the right things, but ― he doesn’t even know what he _wants_ to say. He just knows that there’s something to say that he isn’t, but all he can draw is a blank, and then,

“Thanks.”

He stops, facing Hiyori. “Again. For swimming with me.”

It’s not quite right, but a smile pulls at the edges of his mouth anyways, remembering.

A perfect exchange. Even without any practice. The arc of his shadow, unexpected ― the rush, shouting his name.

Hiyori blinks, a flash of something that quickly turns into a smile that reminds Ikuya of when they had first met ― _first met in America,_ he thinks, means.  

A flicker of a memory of a smile, and his heart skips a beat―

―Hiyori laughs softly.

“That’s my line, you know? I said as much yesterday.”

His smile is wide and warm.

Ikuya stares at it.

It’s like his other smiles, but ― but somehow, looking at this one, he feels guilty. There’s not a reason he can find for the feeling ― he just feels it, thinking of all the other smiles he’s seen before yesterday compared to this one.

 _How long has it been since_ ―

“―There’s the bus.” Hiyori says, completely unaware, it seems, of all the thoughts spinning in Ikuya’s head. “Right on time for once!”

Despite himself, Ikuya snickers.

* * *

Halfway through the bus ride, Ikuya says,

“I knew you and my brother talked about me.”

Hiyori jolts from next to him, startled away from his phone. It’s minuscule, but Ikuya can catch the hike of his shoulders, brief as it is, before Hiyori slowly turns to look at him, untensing through sheer effort.

Ikuya’s not sure how he feels about that smile of his when he says, “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” He says, and the longer he looks at that smile the more he wants to defy it, somehow. “He slipped up and told me what you told him once.”

More than once, honestly. Natsuya tended to be bad at keeping quiet, though Hiyori’s probably already figured that out with the way he looks off to the side, shaking his head slightly.

“...Sorry.” Hiyori murmurs, not looking at him. “He asked me to.”

“I’m not mad.” Ikuya says, because he’s not. Honestly, it hadn’t been a surprise. “I just wanted you to know.”

_I’m sorry for leaving you to look after Ikuya. It was too big a burden to put on you._

Had it really been that hard for him?

_It’s okay._

Or so Hiyori had said. Then ― then Ikuya had poked at his brother, and that had been the end of that.

But if Ikuya thinks about it, if he digs through his memories and _really_ thinks about it, Hiyori has almost never said things weren’t okay.

When Ikuya tries to remember something, anything, all he remembers are recent or implied, little words quickly put aside for another topic, an unwavering sort of smile that edges towards uncanny, that one laugh of his that has always ticked an alarm, in the back of Ikuya’s mind, that Hiyori’s being weird. Acting strange.

A memory rises.

_“Well, my parents aren’t really home a lot.”_

It’s fall. It’s not as cold as Japan, but it’s windy. It’s before his second drowning, but close, at least, he thinks it is. He had been upset about something, though he doesn’t remember what. Hiyori had suggested they go to his favorite cafe, to grab something on the way home ― Ikuya had almost said no, but back then Hiyori’s smiles had been less polished. They had been uncertain, always, like he was never sure what to expect and was always guessing on the negative end, and that had always made Ikuya give in, somehow.

(Hiyori’s smiles whenever Ikuya had agreed though, they had been―)

 _“Really?”_ Ikuya had said, or so he remembers it. He had been jealous ― had been deep in his stubborn phase, moody about the smallest things, even now as he remembers he wants to forget ― though he doesn’t recall how they got onto the topic in the first place.

 _“Yeah.”_ Hiyori had said, not looking at him but straight ahead. _“I’m pretty used to it.”_

He had turned to him and smiled then, Ikuya remembers. He remembers the sound of the wind, remembers a hitch in his step. He remembers seeing something familiar, he remembers the chime of the bell attached to the door of the shop, he remembers staring at Hiyori’s back, he remembers,

_“You want the pistachio one, right? I think they still have it on the menu…”_

“...Ikuya?”

Hiyori says, looking at him, and Ikuya snaps out of it.

“I―” Hyori peers closer, and something unsettles in Ikuya’s stomach, the earnest apology written into Hiyori’s face, “I’m sorry. Really.”

“I told you it’s okay.” Ikuya says, pulling away. The back of his neck is warm. “I bet it was my brother’s idea anyways.”

Hiyori nods, after a beat, and before he can open his mouth again Ikuya says, “You always went along with him. It’s fine. I don’t care.”

Where that comes from, he doesn’t know. It’s just out of his mouth, oddly emotionless, something twisting. Getting to him.

Hiyori pulls back now, surprised, and Ikuya almost leans in to follow.

“Not always.” Hiyori says, and Ikuya replies, “Often.”

Hiyori pauses, at that, thoughtful, and then, with a cautious sort of teasing smile, says,

“Well,” a pause, “he is _your_ ‘nii-chan’.”

Ikuya mutters, “Shut up.”

Hiyori laughs.

* * *

When they get off the bus, Hiyori buys him coffee.

Specifically, he buys two coffees, and then offers Ikuya the second one, insisting that he had a bonus on his pointcard and it’s nothing more ― Ikuya doubts it, but he takes the second cup anyways, a pointed look in Hiyori’s direction.

“Don’t worry about it!” He says, with a smile and a half-shrug. “It’s my treat.”  

Ikuya continues to frown. There’s a silence that lasts a second too long, the both of them staring at each other, and then Hiyori says,

“Next time you can buy it,” his expression shifts in the slightest of ways, “if you want.”

A touch of uncertainty at the edges of his smile.

“...Okay.” Ikuya says, and the smile on his own face is involuntary. He looks at the ground. “Sounds good.”

Hiyori hums in agreement and settles next to him on the bench. The sleeve of his jacket brushes against Ikuya’s and stays, hardly there.

Ikuya raises his arm and takes a sip. Their sleeves brush again when he sets his arm down.

It feels tight inside him. His movements are the same as usual, but they feel stiffer, jerkier, awkward in the time that Hiyori sits next to him and quietly drinks his coffee without saying anything, none of his usual chatter.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ikuya notices the heat of his hand.

What he thinks on the surface is nothing. He’s locked into an awareness of the world, the taste of coffee and Hiyori sitting at his side. The unusual silence that he doesn’t want to break. As if they were two alone in the world.

And then, like a crack in the glass of the quiet,

“It’s almost time for your morning class, isn’t it?”

Hiyori glances his way, looking up from his phone. When he catches Ikuya’s eyes, the moment shatters, and Ikuya nods and pretends that he's aware of what’s been happening in the time between when they had sat down and now.

“Thought so.” Hiyori says with a little smile. “You shouldn’t be late.”

Ikuya rises from the bench. He’s not surprised when Hiyori follows, but then,

“I have to go this way today. I have a professor I have to see.”  

He’s pointing a direction. All Ikuya knows is that it’s not where his class is.

He nods again. “Okay.”

Hiyori’s smile is apologetic. It’s uncomfortably familiar.

“I’ll see you at practice!”

 _What about lunch_ , Ikuya almost says, but Hiyori’s already walking and waving, too far away to ask.

* * *

They do end up eating lunch together. He asks through text, like he would normally, and Hiyori seems happy to see him again, like he is usually, and it’s all as usual again until his phone vibrates, a text notification popping up.

His face must look strange, because Hiyori asks, “Who is it?”

“Asahi’s asking if I want to meet them for dinner.”

It’s easy enough to understand who _them_ is. Yesterday becomes real, more real than it had been, weighty enough to nearly hold in his hand, if he could.

_...Consider you my friend._

_I’m glad I got to speak to you._

Two additional messages appear, rapid-fire one after another, a time and a place. It’s just like Asahi to forget the most important parts, and he holds in a laugh.

“Geez…” He murmurs, and he knows he’s smiling.

Across from him, Hiyori says, “You should go. It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, after all.”

He should, really. He wants to, he thinks, it’d be nice to see them again, and talk more about what they’ve missed, but― for some reason― Hiyori’s words, his cheery tone―

“We saw each other yesterday.” He says instead, not quite knowing why.

This time Hiyori chuckles. His face softens, turning fond, and Ikuya feels an urge to look away, the back of his neck warming again. A hot summer.

“You know what I mean, Ikuya.” His cheek rests in his palm, elbow against the table. That one smug smile of his slowly curls along his mouth.

Ikuya takes a sip of water.

“There must be a lot for you guys to talk about. They’ve been wanting to see you all this time, you know.”

His eyes drift to the side. Ikuya follows the motion, trying to understand what it means.

“I guess I’ll go.” He says, and Hiyori looks back at him with a bright smile.

“Great!”

There’s nothing notably negative in the way Hiyori says it. Nothing in his expression. But it sort of stings despite that.

It shouldn’t. It didn’t yesterday. But today there’s a prickle, an uncomfortable twinge.

_With Nanase?_

The words come back to him, unbidden.

They had hurt. He doesn’t know why, exactly.

Hiyori tilts his head, looking confused.

“Are you feeling okay?” He leans over to Ikuya’s side of the table. “I can tell the captain if you need a break for today. You should be in top condition for tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.” Ikuya mutters, shoving rice into his mouth.

* * *

“Hey, Tono!”

Ikuya closes his locker. Next to him, Hiyori turns, looking for whoever has just called his name. He finds the source as three of their teammates, one in particular with dark brown hair that Ikuya doesn’t totally remember the name of, unfortunately. It’s embarrassing to admit, even just to himself.

_Was it Kondo? Kodama? Kobayashi?_

“You wanna get dinner with us? We’re going to the ramen place a couple blocks away.”

 _Oh_ , Ikuya thinks then, for no reason at all.

“Uh,” Hiyori says, “sure.”

The other three look at each other, pleased. Hiyori’s shoulders relax minutely.

Ikuya thinks again, _oh._

“Hey, Kirishima, do you wanna come too?” Says the ringleader, and Ikuya suddenly doesn’t have the words he needs, lost between _yeah_ and _I’m busy._

The word _oh_ echoes inside his head, a dozen chimes, each ring a feeling he has yet to understand.

Hiyori cuts in.

“Ikuya’s getting dinner with some of his other friends tonight.” He says, and Ikuya lets him. One of the three whispers, “He has other friends?”, which earns him an elbow in the ribs from the other guy next to him that Ikuya quietly appreciates.

“Next time then, yeah?” Says the one whose name Ikuya still can’t remember, and then, “Tono, we’ll wait for you outside.”

Hiyori nods. He packs up. Ikuya hovers behind him, hesitating for nothing, waiting for him to go.

“See you tomorrow, Ikuya.”

Hiyori says, waves.

“At the bus stop.” Ikuya says in return, and Hiyori’s eyes seem to widen. One blink though, and then they’re back to normal.

He wonders if he imagined it.

“Right.” Hiyori says softly, eyes shifting towards the ground. “Tomorrow.”

Before he can ask what _that’s_ about, Hiyori turns and moves out the door. Someone throws an arm over his shoulder, leaning their head close to his, and Ikuya’s startled when the door closes and cuts his view.

_Maybe, maybe._

Roots of weeds stay stuck in his heart.

He boards the bus while thinking of that moment, Hiyori’s head tilted close to someone else's, and all the time they’ve known each other begins to unravel inside him, years of pushed away feelings, pushed away sentiments, pushed away everything.

On his fifteenth birthday, Hiyori had given him goggles. They’re the brand he uses now. He’s never thought about changing them.

Hiyori had been sick with a high fever, once, a long time ago. He had brushed it off the whole day, had told Ikuya it was nothing, really, that he should stay back because it was probably contagious. He had gone home alone before Ikuya could offer to help him with anything.

It had been a cold day when Ikuya had told him about Haru, about his middle school team. The day after he was discharged from the hospital. They had been sitting outside. Hiyori had stayed for dinner.

He’s never talked about the past. Not once did he ever say anything about when they might have met, not until _I bet your smile was that kid’s salvation, you were a hero to him, Ikuya_ ―

―How, exactly?

The bus jerks to a stop. It’s not his.

He stares at his screen.

_I don’t know anything about him._

He does. He knows Hiyori likes to read, likes to swim, likes coffee, likes movies that are complicated, he likes to tease where he can. Likes surprises. Likes to spend a lot of time with him, or at least, Ikuya thinks he does, but―

_―does he really?_

It’s an unsettling thought. He brushes it aside.

 _He does._ Ikuya tells himself. _He wouldn’t have been my friend for this long if he didn’t._

He knows Hiyori is sharp. He’s secretive. There’s a sly part of him that he doesn’t often direct towards Ikuya, stuck in little jabs, casual banter. He keeps things wrapped up, things they’ve never talked about because Ikuya has never asked and Hiyori has never shared.

He remembers telling him about his brother. How much he had respected him, though not in so many words. He remembers telling him his new goals, telling him near anything, _I couldn’t be strong, I’m alone, I_ ―

 _―I don’t know anything,_ Ikuya thinks, _about any of that._

It’s now on this bus that he realizes that everything he’s thought about Hiyori is more of a guess than the spoken truth. He thinks he knows him, thinks if he was asked he would be able to say _something_ , but―

―but what does he really know, from out of Hiyori’s mouth, what does he really _know―_

― _you’re strong, you don’t have to wish on stars―_

_―no, you should make your wishes come true by yourself―_

―the bus hits a dip in the road and jerks, much like Ikuya feels his mind does, thought to thought to thought. Unrelated threads coming together.

_I think he’s a nice guy, deep down._

A terrible feeling ghosts through him.

 _It wasn’t always like this_ , he thinks, and the words are tinted with desperation, _was it?_

The bus stops again. He gets off. Walks to the restaurant.

Dinner is nice. Fun. Asahi talks a lot, Haru a little. More than he remembers. Makoto keeps the rhythm of the conversation, pulling in topics, prompting for answers. It’s like the past and completely different, how they’ve all changed with time ― Asahi is more confident now, genuinely, and while Haru’s swimming is the same, he seems warmer, more open than he used to be. Makoto’s calmer. It’s hard to explain, the difference, but it’s as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders; he’s more easygoing than he used to be. He had noticed it yesterday, but the differences make themselves apparent all over again tonight, clearer now that he’s had time to process everything.

Ikuya knows that he’s changed too. He’s gotten quieter, has mellowed out in some ways, doesn’t get as riled as he used to. Doesn’t take so much personally. It’s easier for him to let things go.

_You’re really calm lately, Ikuya._

He had said that in their first year of high school, maybe.

Haru has a training camp he has to be at early the next morning, so they separate just as the sun is setting. It reminds him of yesterday on the steps, talking until nightfall. Reminds him of finding Hiyori leaning against a railing, talking to, of all people, Kisumi.

_“Remember, text me if you want to join! I’m always looking for new members!”_

_“Join?”_

_“His basketball circle.”_

Hiyori had laughed, tossing an empty soda bottle into the trash.

_“Let’s go?”_

_“Yeah.”_

The rest of the walk home had been quiet. The silence between them had almost seemed physical, but not untouchable, not immovable, just…There. Existing.

He goes home.

He goes home and lies down on his bed for half an hour, listening to music and ignoring his homework, and then he texts Hiyori.

_Are you at your apartment?_

_Yeah, what is it? Do you need something?_

_No_

He tries to type _just curious_ , but it feels awkward. He erases it. Sends the single word knowing that it’s not the proper thing to do.

He stays on his bed for five more minutes before rising, shoving on his shoes and leaving his apartment.

They had ended up in the same building due to the school. The whole of it was basically a dorm for students, studio-sized apartments in rows and columns; Hiyori’s place is barely two minutes away.

He’s at the door when he realizes he’s never been in Hiyori’s room before, not since they moved. His hand hovers at the middle of the door, half a fist, not knocking.

The door opens. 

“Ikuya?”

He takes a step back, surprised.

“What are you doing here?” Hiyori says, pulling back and staring at him like he can’t quite believe his eyes.

Ikuya shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

“Just felt like it.”

Hiyori gapes. It’s nice to see him so uncomposed in a way that doesn’t have Ikuya’s stomach twisting in knots, though his heartbeat is faster than usual, seems like, and he can’t quite look him in the face, eyes shifting to look inside his apartment instead.

He realizes something.

“...Were you going somewhere?”

Hiyori laughs awkwardly. Ikuya looks to the ground, _sorry_ on the edge of his tongue.

“I was going to see you, actually," he says, taking another step back into his apartment, "so no, not anymore.”

He pulls the door open wider, straightens up, a sudden confidence. Makes a welcoming gesture.

“Well, come on, come inside." His smile is wide. "I made some coffee earlier, if you want some.”

Ikuya swallows. Shifts his weight from one side to another.

For some reason, this feels...

_Don’t be stupid._

He crosses over the threshold quickly.

_It’s just Hiyori’s apartment. Just Hiyori._

Hiyori, who’s still staring at him, he realizes. Just standing there staring, hand still on the doorknob.

“What.” Ikuya says, and Hiyori’s expression breaks into something he hasn’t seen in a while, wide-eyed, flustered. He fumbles with his hands.

“Huh? Oh, I― I’m just surprised. Don’t worry about it.” He turns towards the kitchen. “So, do you want coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” Ikuya says, hiding an amused smile. Hiyori nods. He points further down the small hall into his living-slash-bedroom.

“Sit wherever you want.” Hiyori says from the kitchen, and Ikuya chooses the couch out of habit. On the low table near his bed, there are some papers and a textbook, pens and a highlighter. _Studying, then._

Everything looks almost exactly like his apartment, save for the different books lining Hiyori’s shelves, his desk a different style. There are things he’s seen before, when they had lived in the same dorm room ― it’s comforting, somehow, the sameness of it all.

...Maybe he feels that way too?

Maybe when he comes over, he finds comfort in the familiar things he finds in Ikuya’s apartment, in Ikuya―

“―Here, this is yours.”

A cup is placed on the table in front of him.

He blinks, startled. Looks up to see Hiyori’s face, back to his typical smile. He’s holding another mug. He takes a sip and sets it down on the low table with his papers and book, settling down with it on the ground.

Ikuya takes a sip of his own. It’s exactly how he likes it, more or less. Maybe too much cream.

There’s silence, for a while. They drink coffee and say nothing, absorbing the atmosphere.

Then, 

“So what’s on your mind?” Hiyori asks, casual.

“Huh?” Ikuya says, turning to look at him. He’s leaning on the table, head in his hand, propped up on his elbow. Watching. Waiting.

“Nothing, really.” Which is the truth and not at the same time.

For a moment, Hiyori looks like he’s going to argue, but then―

“Okay.”

He shrugs, reaching for the book on the table. “Just asking.”

Ikuya stares at him.

“What were you reading?” He blurts out.

Hiyori's arm jerks, halfway to the book. He turns back to Ikuya, startled.

“It’s the textbook for my nutrition class.”

He pauses, adds, “It’s not that interesting, but you can look at it if you want to.”

 _That’s not it,_ Ikuya thinks.

“That’s not it.” Ikuya says, and Hiyori looks even more confused, crossing into vaguely concerned.

“Ikuya, really, are you feeling okay―”

“―Hiyori,” he takes a breath, “thank you.”

“What―”

He gets up, leaving his mug on the table, and sits in front of Hiyori on the floor. Hiyori stares, leaning back, obviously lost.

“Just―” Why are the words so hard to find, so hard to say? “―thank you.”

“If you mean swimming with you, that―”

He shakes his head quickly, staring at the ground, frustrated with himself. “No, I mean― I―”

He looks up, locking eyes with Hiyori. Not knowing what to say.

“...Ikuya?”

Hiyori whispers, and Ikuya stares at his mouth.

_I wanted to be friends..._

_It was a beautiful smile._

“Thank you for being my friend.” Ikuya says, and then pulls away and groans under his breath, turning his head.

_Nice swimming._

“That’s...I…”

_“You don’t have to visit me every day.”_

_“O-oh...Am I bothering you?”_

_“No, that's not it. But…Everyday...You have other stuff to do, don’t you?”_

_“No, it’s okay! I uhm...I like talking to you. It’s fun.”_

He looks back at Hiyori, who has started turning red, pink flush turning darker across his face as Ikuya stares. He’s the one who looks away this time, hazel eyes shifting to look at his mug, head turning slightly, and Ikuya leans closer, caught by the dark red splotch that trails to Hiyori’s ear.

“...It’s not something you need to thank me for.” Hiyori says, still not really looking at him. “I...”

He looks back to Ikuya through his lashes, curling into himself.

“Honestly, it’s something I should thank _you_ for.”

He looks down, then, down and away, a small smile that brings Ikuya back to vending machines, _with Nanase? Ikuya..._

_Okay, Ikuya._

“Why?” Ikuya asks, because he wants to know, because of yesterday, because of a smile, because _you were a hero to him_ , because―

―Hiyori’s bright red now. Looking at the floor.

“Hiyori,” Ikuya says, “what did you mean yesterday?”

The silence stretches between them. Long and thin.

“...Until you asked him to swim with you,” Hiyori murmurs, “that boy was probably...”

He sighs, still looking down. “...He was probably really lonely.”

Hiyori smiles softly at the ground. Ikuya watches with rapt eyes.

“It meant a lot to him,” he says, and the way he speaks makes his chest ache, “when you reached out and smiled.”

_Swim with me._

Ikuya’s struck by a strange sensation. A sudden awareness. It only lasts a moment, iridescent thoughts, how he’s reached for Hiyori in moments of weakness without even realizing it, how Hiyori has always sought to reach back―

―and then it’s gone, too much to handle. An off beat in the rhythm of the universe.

He realizes they’re very close together.

“Oh.” He says, because he has no idea what else to say, gets up and grabs at his cooled coffee, trying to fix his dry throat. “Okay.”

Hiyori’s still in the same position, though he’s looking at Ikuya with wide, confused eyes. His cheeks are still pinkish-reddish, and looking at them Ikuya feels his own heat up, especially as he takes his cup and sits next to Hiyori on the floor.

“Uhm.” Hiyori says, and Ikuya reaches for the textbook.

“Let’s study together.” He says, not quite looking at him. “Some of this looks familiar.”

It doesn’t, not really. He sticks to it anyways.

Hiyori’s silent next to him. Ikuya can feel him staring.

And then,

“Heh.”

Hiyori laughs. It starts small and then grows, longer and lighter, and even as Ikuya turns, indignant, another part of him thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“Oi, hey, stop it.” Ikuya says, nudging him with his shoulder. Hiyori leans on the table, still giggling.

“You really are cute.” He says under his breath, and Ikuya nudges him harder. “Shut up.”

Hiyori smiles at him. It’s one that burns into his head, bright. Completely new.

Gently, he nudges Ikuya back.

“Okay.” He says, and then, “You've opened it upside down, Ikuya.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _yūgen_ is, as far as I can find, "an awareness of the universe that triggers and emotional response too deep and mysterious to articulate". It's a feeling that is, in a way, beyond what can be expressed easily in words...Which is a foolish thing to try and write a fic around, but well, that's who I am.
> 
> After episode 8, I really just...I had a lot of feelings about the kind of dream-like quality of this ship, like, literally dream-like. Vague memories, feelings, two people who just keep dancing around each other on accident ― I don't know if anything really comes across in this fic, since I deliberately tried to write it in a way that was hard to understand, but it's meant to reflect how I understand Ikuya's sort of...Mentalscape, I guess. He's hard to write since we've gotten so little of him post-realization, but well, here we go anyways. As for the timeline, a day passed before they met up with Makoto and Asahi for the second round of competitions, is what this fic is functioning on.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading. Feel free to post interpretations or ask questions.


End file.
